Miss Durward stood on a rock which
ran out Into the sea, watching the waves
which splashed against Its slippery sides
and which wetted her white canvas shoes
with their spray. It was a blazing hot
August day and scarcely a breath of wind
ruffled her dark, curly hair, which was
without any covering, in spite of the dan
gers of sun stroke. Her big frilled hat lay
further away on the shore where she had
been sitting. Her scarlet linen dress made
her a conspicuous figure to anyone coming
In that direction, and a tall man who came
around the corner of the cliff which shut
off her retreat from the rest of the world
•topped for a moment to take In the pic
ture. Then he made his way rapidly over
the rocks to her side. So quietly did he
come that It was not "until he stood be
•lde her and said: "Good morning, Miss
Durward," that the girl realized his pres
ence. She turned so suddenly that she
almost lost her balance and nearly fell
Into the water at her feet.
"You!" sho ejaculated In a tone of min
gled astonishment and annoyance.
"Myself and no less; you seem sur
prised," he repeated coolly.
"When did you come?" she asked, Ig
noring his remark.
"Last night by the mail train," he re
turned.
"And may I ask why? I thought you
Were In London and too busy to get
■way."
"Well—I came because yon are here."
"If that is the only reason you might
have stayed away," retorted the girl
crossly.
"As it happens, that is the sole and only
reason; but I suppose you have not the
only right and privilege of spending the
summer in this retreat, have you, even
though you may be allowed to be as rudo
as you like?"
"I am not rude, and if I were I have
•very excuse for It. I came here to be
quiet, and not to be worried, and it seems
that is to be made impossible. However, I
will leave you to yourself." i
I
She turned around so sharply on the nar
row ledge of slippery rock that she lost
her balance, swayed for a moment, and
then fell with a resounding splash Into the
deep water.
An expression of unalloyed Joy over
spread the countenance of the young man.
"And she can't swim,” he muttered
gleefully; then as he saw the dark head
emerging from the sea, he pulled oft his
coat and Jumped In after her.
The sudden shock of Immersion In cold
water had completely deprived Miss Dur
ward of speech or hearing, and she was
quite at hts mercy. For all her dignity
•he was really very small and slight, and
her rescuerer found no difficulty In swim
ming a lUtle distance with his burden.
Opposite to where she had been standing
before her fall a large rock Just showed
Its head out of the water which com
pletely surroundad It. On this rock he
placed the girl, and then, saying In a
cheerful, reassuring tone, “Hold on tight,
or you'll fall again,” he returned to his
former resting place and, sluing down,
•wulted events.
With an effort Miss Durward opened her
eyes and looked about her In a dazed
manner. Then the truth came to her with
• flash and rage got the upper hand. She
carefully removed one hand from the slip
pery rock and brushed away the dark
hair which fell Into her eyes and glared
wrathfully at the Impenitent and dripping
young man who hat opposite to her, en
deavoring to light a ctgaret with a damp
match.
She might almost as well have been in
the middle of the Atlantic ocean Instead of
only a few yards fsom the shore, so ut
terly Impossible was It for her to reach
land without getting far out of her depth,
when she would be lgnomlnously fished
out by the man whom at that moment she
hated with deadly and vicious hatred.
"I wonder you are not ashamed of your
self playing such childish tricks.” she said
angrily. ”1 Insist upon your taking me off
this rock at once—at once,” she repeated
with an attempt to be dignified which un
der ihe circumstances was a dismal fail
ure.
“No,” said Claude Harrington calmly:
•'not yet. Not until I have said all that I
wail to say. which you have never yet
allowed me to do—now that I have a
chance I am going to make the most of
tt—also you are going to make a promise
before you get on shore again. In fact,
on second thought, if you will make the
promise first, 1 will land you and talk
afterward.”
”1 don't want to hear anything you have
to say and I will not listen to it.”
“But. fortunately for me, for once In
your life, you have no choice in the mat
ter. Now are you going to promise'.'”
"How can b promise anything unless I
know what It is?"
"You will know If you have a Util* pa
tlcnce. You are to say 'Claude, I love
you, and I will marry you one month from
today.' "
“I shall do nothing of the sort," she re
torted angrily. “I hate you, and I will
never speak to you again.”
A wave larger than the rest rolled up
and almost swept over her seat. She
clutched the rock with both hands.
"Pity you didn’t learn to swim, Isn’t It?"
Mr. Harrington remarked. "After all the
lessons you have had, too. However, as
It happens It Is rather fortunate for me
that you Were not successful In your ef
forts."
The girl made no reply and he contin
ued placidly:
"You see, you made a little mistake for
once In your life. You thought I was Just
like all the rest of your train—to be played
with as long as It amused you and then,
dropped when you were tired of me and
wanted a fresh amusement. Having kept
me dangling at your heels all the season
you thought you had settled the whole
affair when you came to Devonshire Just
as I was beginning to get restive, but
you overlooked the fact that two people
can sometimes play at the same game.
So I followed you, and here I am, and
here I mean to remain, and Fate appears
to be on my side," with a grin at the for
lorn object facing him.
"You are a brute and I hate you—hate
you,” remarked Miss Durward viciously.
He smiled.
"Hate away,” he said. ‘‘But you will
find It more satisfactory to change It to
the other thing as I told you If you want
to get back In time for lunch. It Is get
ting late."
"I will never say anything of the sort.
If I have to stay here all day."
"Well, of course, If you prefer to remain
there you are quite welcome to do so. I
don’t In the least mind sitting here. I had
breakfast very late, and fortunately my
clgaret case Is water tight and well
filled.”
"I thought you "were a gentleman, any
--- mbw
how. I wonder you like to make such a
fool of yourself with all these people
about."
"There are no people about and I am
not making a fool of myself In the least,"
returned Mr. Harrington cheerfully.
A long silence ensued, during which her
tormentor smoked two clgarets while his
victim sat motionless.
"Well," he said at last, as he flung
away the end of the second, "this Is get
ting monotonous. I suppose I had better
come across and talk to you."
He slipped off Into the water again and
came over to her. Holding on to the rock
with one hand he looked up into the gray
eyes above him, in which, In spite of her
valiant efforts to keep up appearances,
there was a suspicious mblsture; aa they
met his blue ones they suddenly dropped
and a faint pink flush crept up at the
roots of Miss Durward's dark, curly hair,
which was rapidly recovering from its
bath.
"Say It," said Mr. Harrington softly,
"and you shall get off at once."
Before she could answer their solitude
was Invaded by a party of people who
came suddenly round the cliff. The girl
uttered an exclamation of dismay, and
said hurriedly:
"Oh. here are a whole lot of people—do,
do. do, please get me off this hateful
i thing before they see me—whatever will
■ they think?"
j "Say what I want you to then," he re
! peated obstinately.
j SJie looked at the determined face—and
! yielded—anything to get away from, her
| Ignominious position.
I "You are very, very unkind to take ad
j vantage of me like this," Miss Durw’ard
| said slowly. "But since you are deter
mined, I suppose I must do It—to save
myself from ridicule-" she hesitated
and then said, with a rush, the crimsor
I mounting again to her face: "I love you-’
“And you will promise to marry me oni
month from today?"
"And I will promise to marry you on*
month from today—anything, only get m<
out of this, quick,” she said, with a re
turn of her own dictatorial manner.
Harrington said no more, but took hei
In his arms and conveyed her the shor
distance a which separated them from th<
■ rocks on* the shore. Without a word 01
i a backward glance at him she fled along
S the beach and around the cliff.
! Tjate In the afternoon, after a pro
longed search, ho found her on the beach
She was clothed from head to foot Ii
spotless white and presented a very dif
ferent appearance from the forlorn maid
on In the limp linen dress of the morning
She saw him coming and deliberately low
ered her parasol and turned her back
reading with great absorption. Mr. Har
rlngton walked quietly round the othe
side of the barrier she had raised an<
llung himself on the sand beside her. Mis
Durward took no notice. Apparently
young men had no place !n her world at
all at that moment. He endured It for
a few momenta and then, as she contin
ued to read, he quietly took the book out
of her hand and threw it along the beach.
"Cecile,'’ he said softly, “are you very
angry with me? I want you to say again
what you did this morning.”
“Isn’t once enough to humiliate me?”
she asked, without raising her eyes.
“I had to do it, dear, because you would
not give me a chance to say what you
know I wanted to; but I am sorry I
teased you, and I want you to say you
forgive me and tell me over again, only
of your own free will this time, what you
did this morning. You know you meant
to say It all the time, only you were so
proud and wilful you would not give In?
Isn’t that right?” he asked eagerly,
i Miss Durward’s eyes w’andered slowly
round the horizon, away to the cliffs in
i the distance, down to the little waves at
her feet, and, finally, with an effort, to
■ tho face of the man beside her. Then
| her mouth curved and a smile broke all
| over her small, mutinous face.
I “But it was a mean trick, all the same,’*
! she said.
NEW TEST FOR WINE.
A Recent Discovery That Has Been
Made in Paris.
London Telegraph: Wine testing by tel
ephone Is the latest application of elec
tricity ^n Paris. Unscrupulous venders
will not bless M. Maneuvrier, assistant di
rector of the laboratory of researches of
the Paris faculty of sciences. He has
just discovered an infallible method of as
certaining by the use of the telephone
how much a given quantity of wine has
been watered. The principle upon which
the invention rests is the variable con
dUctlbillty of different liquids, notable of
wine and water. The originality of M.
Maneuvrier’s ingenious application Is his
use of the telephone to determine to what
degree the liquid under observation Is a
conductor. He has constructed an ap
paratus which achieves this object satis
factorily and accurately. By means of a
chart, on which are set down in tabular
form the results of various necessary cal
culations made by M. Maneuvrier for the
purpose, an operator with the telephone
can easily and in a short while find out
the exact proportion of water in the wine
which he is testing, whereas the chemical
analysis processes hitherto employed are
lengthy, laborious and costly.
The apparatus works as follows: Two
vessels, one containing wine known to be
pure, the other the same quantity of the
wine to be tested, are placed on an instru
ment outwardly resembling a pair of
scales. The telephone is in contact with
both liquids. If the sample of wine under
observation is as pure as the standard
used for comparisons no sound is heard:
if, on the contrary, it contains water, the
tell-tale telephone “speaks,” and the
greater the proportion of water the loud
er the Instrument complains. A dial on
which a number of figures are marked Is
connected with the telephone. To ascer
tain the proportion of water in the wine
tested the operator moves a hand qn the
dial until the telephone, which has been
“speaking” all this time, relapses Into
silence. The hand has thus been brought
to a certain figure on the dial. This num
ber is then looked up In a chart which
the Ingenious and painstaking inventor
has drawn up, and corresponding to It is
found Indicated the exact proportion of
water contained in the quantity of wine.
M. Maneuvricr’s remarkable Invention
can, he says, be easily aplied to the test
ing of many other liquids, and even sol
ids, which may be adulterated by the ad
dition of foreign matter possessing a con
ductiblllty different to that of the original
substance.
WONDER STORY.
Of the Railroads Gives Amazing Facts
About American Supremacy.
New York World; In 1S6U there was pot
one mile of railway In Wisconsin. Tennes
see or Florida, or anywhere west of the
Mississippi river. Even In 1870 half the
area of the country was still without rail
ways. In 1SKK) the United States had 103,346
miles of railway lines, two-fifths of the
mileage of the world. In round numbers
there are now 200,000 miles. A single
American system, the Pennsylvania, car
rier more freight than all the lines com
bined in any other nation In the world.
The first American railway—not built
for steam cars, however—was made to
haul Quincy granite for the Bunker Hill
mounment. That was In 1826. It was
three miles long. The first railway built
for steam cars was the Charleston and
New Hamburg line. In South Carolina.
This was for some tltme the longest line
In the world, 137 miles. When the war
closed In 1806 no American railroad had
1.000 miles of tracks. Now there are eight
great systems with over 10,000 miles each.
Roughly, our railroad systems are cap
italised at *12,000,000,000, divided half and
half between stocks and bonds. A little
over half the stocks pay dividends. The
capital of the railroads Is more than
twelve times as great as that of all the
banks.
The first locomotive weighed three to
five tons. An imported English locomo
tive weighing ten tons was tro heavy.
Twenty-five engines of that day would
make one of today. Fifty years ago a
train load of 200 tons was heavy. Now
loads of 2,000 to 2,60 tons are handled.
Europe has 4.4 miles of railway for
10.000 people; the United States 25 miles.
Freight pays the bills. This Is more
true of this country than of any other.
1 Freight revenue is over *1,000,000,000; pas
; senger receipts about *350,000,000. Our av
erage passenger train carries only forty
| two people. English people take railroad
trips four times as often in proportion
as Americans, but shorter ones.
The "ton mileage" of freight In 1901 was
147,077,136,040—a number too vast to be
conceived. The average journey of a ton
of freight Is 128 miles.
There Is much talk every year about
"moving the crops" and freight car fam
ines In the "granger" region. Yet farm
products are only one-ninth of the coun
try's freight. Mines furnish more than
half, forests one-fifth, factories one-sev
enth. There are 183,000 miles of railway
mall routes. Strange as it may seem, this
mileage Is considerably surpassed by the
distance over which malls are carried on
horseback or by wagon. The quantity ol
mail so carried, however. Is comparatively
trilling.
Knew His Business.
| | Fair Customer—X inly wear numbe
‘ ! twos, but these don't fit me.
The Clerk—No; they're too large
' | I'll get you a smaller paii. To w.i
slock boy; "Get me a pair of fives.
JHE WILD GEE |
1Qy>y Stanley J.Weyman.
(Copyright, 1909, by Stanley J. Weymanj
CHAPTER II—Continued.
Ullck Sullivan shrugged his shoul
ders. "Let?” he said. "Faith! It’s but
little it’ll be a question of that! James
Is for taking, and she’s for giving!
He's her white swan. Who’s to hin
der?”
"You.”
"It’s easiness has been my ruin, and
faith! it’s too late to change.
"Then I?”
Uncle Ullck smiled. "To be sure,”
he said slyly, "there's you, Colonel.”
"The whole estate is mine, you see,
In law.”
I "Ay, but there’s no law west of Tra
lee,” Uncle Ullck retorted. “That’s
where old Sir Michael made his mis
take. I’d not be knowing what would
happen If it went about that you were
ousting them that had the right, and
you a Protestant. He’s not the great
favorite, James McMurrough, and
whether he or the girl took most’d be
a mighty small matter. But if you
think to twist It so as to play cuckoo—
though with the height of fair mean
ing and not spying a silver penny of
profit fcr yourself, Colonel—I take
leave to tell you he’s a most unpopular
bird.”
"But, Sir Michael,” the Colonel an
swered, "left all to me to that very
end—that it might be secured to the
girl.”
“Sorrow one of me says no!” Ulick
rejoined. “But” .
"But what?” the Colonel replied po
litely. "The more plainly you speak
the more you will oblige me.”
1 But all that Ulick Sullivan could be
brought to say at that moment—per
haps he knew that curious eyes were
on their conference—was that Kerry
was "a mighty queer country,” and the
thief of the world wouldn’t know what
would pass there by times. And be
sides. there were things afoot that he’d
talk about at another time.
| Then he changed the subject abrupt
ly, asking the Colonel if he had seen
a big ship in the bay.
i "What colors?” the Colonel asked—
the question men ask who have been at
sea.
| “Spanish, maybe,” Uncle Ulick an
swered “Did you sight such a one?”
But the Colonel had seen no big ship.
CHAPTER III.
A SCION OF KINGS.
The family at Morristown had been
| half an hour at table, and in the inter
val a man of more hasty judgment
than Colonel Sullivan might have made
1 up his mind on many points. Whether
; the young McMurrcugh was offensive
S of set purpose, and because an unwel
come guest was present, or whether
; he merely showed himself as he was—
: an unllcked cub—such a man might
’ have determined. But the Colonel held
i his Judgment in suspense, though he
leaned to the latter view of the case.
At their first Hitting down the young
man had shown his churlishness. Be
ginning by viewing the Colonel in
sulky silence, he had answered his
kinsman’s overtures only by a rude
stare or a boorish word. His compan
ions, two squireens of his own age, and
much of his own kidney, nudged him
from time to time, and then the three
would laugh in such a way as to make
it plain that the stranger was the butt
of the Jest. Presently, overcoming the
reluctant impression which Colonel
John's manners made upon him, the
young man found his tongue, and,
glancing at his companions to bring
them into the Joke. “Much to have
where you come from?” he asked.
"As in most places,” the Colonel re
plied mildly, “by working for it, or
earning It after one fashion or another,
j Indeed, my friend, country and coun
try are more alike except on the out
side, than is thought by those who stay
at home.”
"You’ve seen a wealth of countries,
I'm thinking?” the ycuth asked with
a sneer.
| “I have crossed Europe more than
once.”
"And stayed in none?”
"If you mean”
"Faith, I mean you've come back!”
' the young man exclaimed with a loud
laugh, in which his companions Joined.
"You’ll mind the song”—and with a
wink he trolled out:
In such contempt, in short, I felt,
Which was a very bad thing.
They devilish badly used me there.
For nothing but a farthing.
"You’re better than that, colonel, for
the worst we can say of you is, you’s
come back a penny!”
"If you mean a bad one, come home,”
' the colonel rejoined, taking the lad
good humoredly—he was not blind to
the flush of indignation which dyed
, Flavia's cheeks—“I’ll take the wit for
welcome. To be sure to die in Ire
land is an Irishman's hope, all the,
world over.”
i "True for you, colonel!” Uncle Ullck
said. And, “for shame, James, he con
tinued, speaking with more sternness
than was natural to him. “Faith, and
if you talked abroad as you talk at
home, you’d be for having a pistol ball
in your gizzard in the lime It takes
you to say your prayers—if you ever
say them, my lad!"
"What are my prayers to you, I'd
like to know?” James retorted offen
sively.
"Easy, lad, easy.”
The young man glared at him. "What
is It to you,” he cried still more rudely,
"whether I pray or no?"
"James! James!" Flavia pleaded un
der her breath.
“Do you be keeping your feet to your
self!” he cried, betraying her kindly
maneuver. "And let my shins be! I
want hone of your guiding! More by
token, miss, don't you be making a
sight of yourself as you did this morn
ing, or you’ll smart for it. What is it
to you if O’Sullivan Og takes our dues
for us—and a trifle over? And, sorra
one of you doubt it, if mounseer comes
Jawing here, it’s in the peathole he'll
find himself! Never the value of a cork
he gets out of me; that’s flat! Eh.
Phelim?”
"True for you, McMurrough!” the
youth who sat beside him answered,
winking. "We’ll soak him for you.”
"So do you be taking a lesson. Miss
Flawy,” the young Hector continued,
"and don't go to threatening honest folk
with your whip, or it’ll be about your
own shoulders it'll fall! I know what’s
going on, and when I want your help
I’ll ask it.”
The girl's lips trembled. “But it’s
robbery, James,” she murmured.
“Hang your robbery!" he retorted,
casting a defiant eye round the table.
"They'll pay our dues, and what they
get back will be their own!"
"And It's rich they’ll be with it!"
Phelim chuckled.
"Ay, faith, it’s the proud men they’ll
be that day!" laughed Merty, his broth
er.
"Fine words, my lad," Uncl» Ulick
• replied quietly; "but it’s my opinion
you’ll fall on trouble, and mere than'U
please you, with Crosby, of Castel
malne. And why, I’d like to know?
'Tis a grand trade, and has served us
woll since I can remember. Why can’t
you take what’s fair out of it, and let
the poor devil of a sea captain that’s
supplied so many an honest man's
table, have his own and go his way?
Take my word for it, it’s ruining it
you’ll be, when all’s done."
"It’s not from Crosby, of Castel
maine I’ll rue it,” James McMurrough
answered arrogantly. “I’ll shoot him
like a bog snipe if he’s sorra a word
to say to it. That for him, the black
sneak of a Protestant.” And he snap
ped his Angers. “But his day will
soon be past and we’ll be dealing with
him. The toast is warming for him
now.”
Phelim slapped his thigh. “True for
you, McMurrough. That’s the talk.”
"That’s the talk,” chorused Morty.
The colonel opened his mouth to
speak, but he caught Flavia’s look of
distress and he refrained.
“For my part," Morty continued jo
vially, “I’d not wait—for you know
what! The gentleman's way's the bet
ter, early or late. Clare or Kerry, ’tis
all one. A drink of the tea, a peppered
devil, and a pair of the beauties is an
Irishman’s morning."
“And many’s the poor soul has to
mourn it—long and bitterly,” the
colonel said. His tender corn being trod
upon, he could be silent no longer.
“For shame, sir, for shame!” he added
warmly.
Morty stared. "Begorra, and why?”
he cried, in a tone which proved that
he asked the question in perfect inno
cence.
"Why?” Colonel John repeated. For
a moment, in face of prejudices so
strong, he paused. “Can you ask me
when you know hotv many a life as
young as yours—and I take you to be
scarcely, sir, in your twenties—has
been forfeit for a thoughtless word, an
unwitting touch, a look; when you
know how many a bride has been wid
owed as soon as wedded, how many a
babe orphaned as soon as born? And
for what, sir?”
“For the point of honor!” The Mc
Murrough cried, Morty, for his part,
was dumb with astonishment.
“The point of honor?” the colonel re
peated, more slowly, “what is it? In
nine cases out of 10 the fear of seem
ing to be afraid. In the 10th—the de
sire to wipe out a stain that blood
leaves as deep as before.”
“Faith, and you surprise me,” Phe
lim cried with a genuine naivete that
j1 ■ ■■ ■■
X—~ lv-4/J* ■ ■. * -
-2 ■ ' -
"I’m thinking by rights I must arrest you.”
at another time would have provoked
a smile.
"Kerry'U more than surprise you."
quoth the MeMurrough rudely, "if It's
that way you'll be acting. Would you
let Crosby, of Castlemaine, call you
thief?"
“I would not thieve,” the colonel
replted.
There was a stricken silence for a
moment. Then the MeMurrough sprang
to his feet, his quernlous face flushed
with rage, his arm raised. But Ulick’s
huge hand dragged him down. "Easy,
lad, easy,” lie Cried, restraining the
young man, "he's your guest, remem
ber that."
"And he spoke in haste," the colonel
said. “I withdraw my words,” he con
tinued, rising and frankly holding out
his hand. “I recognize that I was
wrong. I see that the act in your eyes
bears a different aspect, and I beg
your pardon, sir.”
The MeMurrough took the hand,
though he tock it sullenly; and the
colonel sat down again. His action, to
sty' nothing of his words, left Phellm
and Morty in a state of amazement so
profound that the two sat staring as if
carved out of the same block of wood.
If Colonel John noticed their sur
prise he seemed in no way put out by
it. "Perhaps.” he said gently, “It is
wrong to thrust opinions on others un
asked. I think that is so! It should be
enough to act upon them one's self and
refrain from judging others.”
The colonel was a Sullivan and an
Irishman and it was supposed that ho.
had followed the wars. Whence, then,
these strange words, these unheard of
opinions? Morty felt his cheek flush
with the shame which Colonel John
should have felt; and Phellm grieved
for the family. The gentleman might
be mad; It was charitable to think he
was. But, mad or sane, ho was like,
they feared, to be the cause of sad
misunderstanding in the country
round.
The MeMurrough, of a harder and
less generous nature than his com
panions. felt more contempt than won
der. The man had insulted him gross
ly and had apologized so abjectly; that
was his view of the incident. He was
the first to break the silence. “Sure,
it’s very well for the gentleman it's In
the family." he said dryly. “Tail up,
tall down, 's all one among friends.
But If he’ll be so quick with his tongue
in Tralee Market he’ll chance on one
here and there that he'll not blarney
so easily! Eh. Morty?”
“I’m fearing so, too.” said Phellm,
pensively. Morty did not answer,
” 'Tis a queer world,” Phellm added.
"And all sorts in It," The MeMur
rough cried, hts tone more arrogant
than before.
Flavla glanced at him frowning
“Let us have peace now,” she said.
“Peace? Sorrow a bit of war there’!
like to be in the present company!’
the victor cried. And he began tr
whistle, amid an awkward silence. The
air he chose was one well known at
that day. and when he had whistled a
few bars one of the buckeens at the
lower end of the table-began to sins
these words softly:
It was a' for our rightful king
YVe le.ft fair Ireland’s strand:
It was a' for our rightful king
We e'er saw foreign land, my dear,
YY'e o'er saw foreign land:
“My dear, or no, you'll be doing wel
to be careful:" The MeMurrough said
in a jeering tone, with an eye on tne
colonel.
“Pho!” the man replied. "And I that
have heard the young mistress sing it
a score of times!”
“Aye, but not in this company!” The
McMurrough rejoined.
Colonel John looked round the ta
ble. “If you mean,” hb satd quietly,
“that I am a loyal subject of King
George, I am that. But what Is said
at my host’s table, no matter who he
is. Is safe for me. Moreover, I’ve lived
long enough to know, gentlemen, that
most said is least meant, and that the
theme of a lady’s song Js more often
—sunset than sunrise!” And he bowed
in the direction of the girl.
The McMurrough’s lip curled. "Fair
words,” he sneered. "And easy to
speak them, when you and your prot
estant whigs are on top!”
“We won’t talk of protestants.”
Colonel John replied, and for the first
time his glance, keen as the flicker of
steel, crossed The McMurrough’s. The
younger man’s eyes fell.
The cudgels were taken up in an
unexpected quarter. "I know nothing
of protestants in general,” Flavia said,
“in a voice vibrating with eagerness,
"but only to our sorrow, of those who
through centures have robbed us!
Who, not content, shame on them! with
shutting us up in a corner of the land
that was ours from sea to sea, deny
us even the protection of their law.
Law? Can you call it law which de
nies us all natural rights, all honor
able employments; which drives us
abroad, divides son from father and
brother from brother, which bans our
priests and forbids our worship, and. if
it had its will, would leave no Cath- IP*m
ollc from Cape Clear to Killaloe?”
The colonel looked sorrowfully at her,
but made no answer; for to much of
what she said no answer could be
made. On the other hand, a murmur
passed round the board; and more than
one looked at the stranger with com
pressed lips. "If you had your will,”
the girl continued, with growing emo
tion, “if your law were carried out, as,
thank God, it is not, no man's heart
being hard enough—to possess a pis
tol were to be pilloried; to possess a
fowling piece were to be whipped; to
own a horse above the value of a mis
erable garron, were to be robbed by
the first rascal who passed! We must
not be soldiers nor sailors,” she con
tinued; "nay”—with bitter irony—“we
may not be constables nor game keep
ers! The courts, the bar, the bench of
our fatherland are shut to us. We may
have neither school nor college, ths
lands that were our fathers’ must be
held for us by protestants, and it’s
I must have a protestant guardian!
We are outlaws in the dear land that
“VT ’ ■;/1 11 --s—n
Is ours; we dwell on sufferance where
our fathers ruled! And men like you,
abandoning their country, abandoning
their creed”
"God forbid!” the colonel exclaimed,
much moved himself.
"Men like you uphold these things!’*
"God forbid,” he repeated. j
"But let him forbid, or not forbid.” ^
she retorted, rising from her seat with
eyes that flashed anger through tears,
"we exist, and shall exist! And the
time is coming, and comes soon—ay,
comes perhaps today—when we who
now suffer for the true faith, and ths
rightful king will raise our heads, and
the faithul land shall cease to mourn
and honest men to pine! And, ah”—
with upraised face and clasped hands
—"I pray or that day! I pray for that
day! I”
She broke off amid cries of ap
plause fierce as the barking of wolves.
She struggled for a moment with her
overmastering emotion, then, unable
to continue or to calm herself, she
turned from the table and fled weeping
up the stairs.
(Continued Next Week.)
Ram’s Horn Brown’s Philosophy.
From the Indianapolis News.
The kind of resisting that makes the
devil fly from you is the kind that keeps
up a hot Are seven days in the week.
The greater our need may be the mors
ready the Lord is to supply it.
If we knew God better It wouldn’t be so
hard for some of us to trust Him,
To be ready Is more than half the secret
of success In life.
There Is more power in a mustard seed
grain of faith than there is in a pound
of dynamite.
A habit cannot be formed in a day nor
broken in an hour.
The best preparation for tomorrow is to
I do your best today.
I The man who has to live on cornbread
; at home is always Anding fault with tho
; pie when he travels.
i If we would get the habit of looking at
the bright side Arst we would often forget
| that there was any dark side.
The wdrld Is always ready to stone tho
man it can't answer.
Manhood Is worth more to a country
than all the gold mines In it.
A woman can jump at a conclusion and
hit it full in the face, while a man would
think about it a week, and then miss it
a mile.
Remember this; That whatever you aro
r- - into your life now you are putting
iii"’ all of it.
The more we love the more we can seo
to love.
When the devil gets a mother he gen
erally gets the family.
Counterfeit character Is more common
than counterfeit money.
The Auto Shop.
From Success Magazine.
I When the train stopped af- the little
j southern station the northern tourist
| sauntered out on the platform. Under
; a scrub oak stood a lean animal with
scraggy bristles. The tourist was In
terested.
"What do you call that?” he queried
of a lanky native.
"Razorback havg.”
“Well, what is he doing rubbing ^
against that tree?" s
"He’s stropping himself, mister, jest
stropping himself.”